Palm Sunday, the Sunday of the Passion         The Rev'd David Cobb Luke 22 & 23                                                  April 1, 2007                                                                   

Later this week, just before we reach the moment when the world changes, you will be asked to do two things to renounce evil and to repent of sins.  The baptismal covenant, which draws us into Christ's death and resurrection begins with that renunciation and then teaches us to repent.  Evil and sin, both are operative in our lives and both contribute to this story that we have read. 

 

Evil is the patterns and structures that are there before I act.  I can feed my family at a reasonable cost, because a migrant worker can not.  Expand from there the way the cards are stacked for or against you, the readiness with which we reach for lies or the distortions that we take for granted, that is evil.  Some of evil's effects seem to work for my benefit, others obviously work against me.  Pervasive and hidden in plain sight, too often feel our renunciations are meaningless, what can it matter?.  

Sin come closer home.  Simply put, it is to act wrongly towards another.   I snap at my children or I scoff at someone different than myself.  It might be as specific as cutting someone off in traffic or as constant as a habit that is harmful to myself, to others, or to the ecology.  I act wrongly, and so sin against you my neighbor and against myself.  I sin against God because it is by God's most gracious gift that I exist and have been given a world to share with others. 

 

Patterns and my own actions.  Evil to renounce and sin to repent and that's how Lent began, and that will be the last thing we do before we announce the resurrection. 

 

But now, we stand on Calvary , watching that sad procession carrying the body away.  Evil has worked its purposes in turning fear and anger against this one person.  The glorious concepts of political stability and religious continuity have been the goad to this miscarriage of justice and have directed this violent death.  Roman soldiers who never asked to be there, Pilate caught between mob and the system he served, religious leaders unable to recognize good and righteous commitments that turned destructive, Before anyone acted, there were patterns and forces that made this more than possible.

 

And sin, there were countless moments when any number of people could have acted differently.   From Judas who betrays, to Peter who denies, Pilate who condemns, the bitter thief who reviles,  they all act towards this man in ways that are wrong. 

 

This story is ours. Evil still works its distortions.  Violence begets greater violence. Evil laughs as enormous wealth collects here while children die from the lack of malaria shots.  No, you did not cause it.  Yes some of it works against you even as some of it works very well for us.  It is there. 

 

And there is sin.  Whom do you fear? Whose death would you accept for some greater good?  What shame or fear leaves you silent, unable to speak the truth about your own life or about your faith?  What accusing voice causes you to deny knowing Jesus?   Did I lift a hammer and let it fall on the nail that crushes through his hand? No.  Am I innocent?  None of us are. 

 

Evil and sin. There you have it.  We have much to renounce and we have enough to repent. 

 

Now, listen to Jesus.  At the last moment before his death begins, when our sinfulness and the evil at work in this world are most evident, just then he says, “Father, forgive them,  they know not what they do.”

 

He sees us so clearly.  He knows the roles we like to play in this passion and in the countless stories of suffering ever since.  And still he prays for us.  Forgive them.  Do you think that God the Father will hear that prayer and ignore it?  The Incarnate Word lies bleeding on the earth, our flesh taken into the life of God this ground which was made by him to be our home, and there he lies, and still he prays.  Forgive them. 

 

Forgiveness flows in ways we can not imagine, touching the depths of our shame and healing our guilt. It reaches those who offend us and finally teaches us to forgive. How can I hold a grudge, listening to him, laying on the ground next the cross, praying forgiveness.

Whatever burden of guilt or shame you carry- it is caught up in this one prayer.  Whatever you need to confess- this prayer will suffice.  Here, you can put down the burden of sin and leave it.  Here, you will learn to forgive.  Forgive them, he prays.  So, when we are asked once more to repent, we have reason to try, to lay out the truth and to hope, to trust that there will be no condemnation. 

 

He prays for forgiveness, and yet the passion continues.  After  a life time of healing and friendship, in the midst of this stalwart and patient suffering, still, humans can think of nothing better to do than to mock and deride.  We laugh when we should tremble and we scoff at what surpasses our understanding.  If you can't do what we want you're no messiah.  Save yourself and us, on our plan, then maybe we'll listen. 

 

There's evil for you, our fear of being connected with this loser, our fear of letting ourselves care about someone who's obviously cursed and despicable. There is a perverse and foolish confidence if we can imagine that there is something wrong with the other, that we are better. Both of them hanging there, in excruciating pain, in horrendous shame, still somehow it was worth the energy it took for that thief to mock Jesus.  Mock him, jeer at him, ignore him because you're busy checking the roll of the dice, hoping to win something in the lottery for his clothing.  That is evil, playing off of fear and making someone dispensable.  Cruelty and inaction in the face of cruelty.  Like a crown of thorns or a nail pounded with malice, they weigh down the human race.  Mock and deride, blame and scoff, convince yourself that the other deserves what he gets.  And out of all this wretched noise, one voice speaks to Jesus. 

That one voice. Is it your voice?  “Jesus, remember me.”.  Its one of the few times anyone calls this man by his name.  Go back and read the Gospel, no one calls him by his name.  As close as he was to so many-The Twelve, his mother, Mary and Martha, it is never recorded that anyone called him by name, and don't we all want to hear our name spoken in friendship, in companionship.   Might there have been a tenderness, a comfort in hearing his name spoken, one last time?    Remember me when you come into your kingdom.  That's all the dying thief asks, but then there was nothing else he could ask for hanging on that cross.  Just this, Remember me. A dying man, hanging where he will breathe his last, there is nothing else to ask but this.  Can we, in our distracted lives, be as clear about what we need?   

 

“Today, you will be with me.”  That is the promise that gives us hope to renounce evil, even when we live in its patterns and can barely trace its origin.     You will be with me, and is the one thing that can begin a new creation.  To be with him is to walk through this week and come to its Promise, even in the midst of our own deaths.  You will be with me.  That presence is stronger than the patterns of evil and the powers that destroy.  That presence accomplishes the fullness of God's intentions and reshapes a distorted and violent world.  When we arrive at the end of this week, and the Risen Lord begins to re-gather his friends, he turns their attention to the future. 

The one who prays for forgiveness, who promises that we will be with him, Jesus gives us the same work to do, he sends us out “repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed to all.”  You are witnesses of these things.  Renounce evil, with confidence because Christ is the beginning of a new creation.  Repent with hope because Christ prays for you.  And then, from the cross and empty tomb, to the table where he meets us, take what you see and hear, let what you receive nourish you, and then live it, speak it, forgiven and confident that Paradise begins even now, that Jesus calls us to be with him, to work with him, to die with him and to live with him.